Arbiter
by A Perplexing Puzzle
Summary: In the Arbiter's Grounds, beneath the blood moon, a dark power awakens and a thread of fate binds. Maybe some memories are best left forgotten. Creepy, mind control, deal with a devil, but no major warnings.
1. Chapter 1

I've been trying to work through a block on my main story (which I think I finally have!) so I took a little break to write something kind of creepy. Credit goes to tumblr user sheikah-slate-memos for the original inspiration behind this.

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Evening crept slowly over the dusty Gerudo desert, stars appearing one by one to watch as the hot sand cooled, and became frigid. Link had settled in for the night, spirits high. Mushrooms sizzled on a skewer over a small fire as he tapped away at his Sheikah Slate, stopping every now and then to take a bite from one of his last remaining rice balls. Absently, he raised a hand to check the bandaging on his arm. The gash he'd earned in the day's battle had been thankfully shallow—an inch's difference and his night would have been _very_ different—but he'd wrapped it up carefully anyway, downing his mildest elixir to speed up healing. By the time he woke up in the morning, there would barely be a scar.

"I do not recommend… running around carelessly… if you suspect there may be one in the area," Link muttered aloud, finishing up his entry on Molduga and flicking across the screen to examine his painfully pieced together map. He'd finally activated the last of the towers only a week ago, though every now and then the completed map still updated itself with new information as he traveled. Now the words "Arbiter's Grounds" hovered over his location, and Link tilted his head thoughtfully. Arbiter—like a judge? If this place had been like a courthouse once, the few faded structures remaining gave no hint either way. Exploring the ruins themselves had been a waste of time, although the gem deposits had been profitable enough to make up for that.

Fishing through his pouches, Link withdrew one of the red gems he'd collected and examined it with satisfaction. Now he could finally commission one of those ruby circlets he'd been eyeing in town. No more nights trapped in the desert, confined to the warmth of his fire because his snowquill tunic had been too bulky to travel with.

Maybe he could consider storming the Yiga Clan's hideout by night now. The darkness would hide them as much as him, but it had to be better than approaching in broad daylight.

Silence blanketed the starlit desert, broken only by the crackling flames and the distant whine of cicadas, and Link's good mood dampened slightly. Solitude was nothing new—it had been his near constant companion since awakening in that pool of tepid liquid with nothing but a quickly vanishing voice in his head for direction—but some nights he thought it might be nice to have someone around to share in his good news, or his bad. He couldn't shake the thought that he was missing… somebody. Zelda maybe? From what little he remembered, they had rarely been apart, although the princess had seemed more resigned to that fact than anything.

Link still couldn't remember how he'd felt about it.

At least finding the sword that sealed the darkness had helped, a bit. Maybe a blade was poor excuse for company, but it _had_ chosen him, and legend said that somewhere in that forged steel, an ancient voice resonated. In the end, it was all he had, and Link kept it close as he finally pocketed the Sheikah Slate, pulling his skewer from the fire and blowing on his charred golden mushrooms. Sunshrooms needed a more finessed preparation to unlock their full abilities, something he couldn't achieve with a simple campfire, but they would help to keep the worst of the chill away.

Yanking one off and juggling it in his hands a bit before popping it in his mouth, Link chewed carefully around its searing juices as his gaze strayed up to where three beams of red light pierced through the sky. Just one Divine Beast left. He hoped he'd be able to shake loose some memory of Urbosa before meeting her face to face. The other Champions had come in time—fragments of them, at least. Tiny pieces that formed an incomplete picture of who they were, and how he'd fit in among them.

Link had expected… more. There _had_ to be more to him than what he remembered, the silent shadow who always observed, hiding every piece of himself away. His mind felt like the night sky above, each dim memory a tiny prick of light that did nothing to illuminate the enormous blackness containing it. Would he ever gather enough of those lights to form a clear picture of who he was, or—

Link froze, almost choking on his mushroom. His wandering gaze had fallen on the moon, rising unnoticed over the distant dunes.

Blood red.

All thoughts forgotten, Link clambered to his feet, counting back the days since the last blood moon and cursing his own inattentiveness. He should have seen this coming. The Molduga's carcass sat rotting not far off, close enough that he had to hold back a gag whenever the wind blew from that direction, but that wouldn't last for long. Soon it would be breathing again, parting the sand like water in search of new prey.

Link didn't intend to be that prey, tonight or ever, but a moonlit battle in the freezing desert made that scenario all too likely. Crossing the desert at night dressed as he was would be equally disastrous. He'd have to relocate to higher ground for now, and face the beast in the morning. Grimacing, he pulled the remaining mushrooms from their skewer with his teeth before tossing it aside to pack up camp. Just the thought of fighting that battle again left him exhausted. He _knew_ better than to camp so close to fallen enemies!

Leaving the fire to burn out on its own, Link shivered as the first tendrils of cold air wrapped around his bare torso, the _voe_ armor that cooled him so efficiently during the day providing no protection at all against the night's chill. Maybe his cold weather clothing had been too much to pack, but he could have at least thought to bring a real shirt, or his hood.

Trudging through the sand was a joyless prospect, so instead he shrugged out of his shield and hopped on, surfing across the sandy dunes in search of a more secluded campsite outside of the Molduga's reach. A tall stone structure caught his eye, and he steered himself towards it, kicking his shield into the air as he arrived and catching it with a triumphant grin. He was getting better at that.

Link's smile faded quickly, though. His injured arm made climbing slow and uncomfortable, and the frigid air bit at his fingers until he could barely feel the stone beneath them. By the time he reached the top, heaving himself up and perching momentarily on the edge to catch his breath, the full red moon had cleared the upper edge of the sand dunes, lighting what remained of the Arbiter's Grounds in an eerie glow. Link took it all in with a somber expression. The sight of those fallen columns bathed in red made him shiver without knowing why.

...Or maybe it was the cold. Rubbing his arms vigorously, Link retreated as far from the stone's edge as he could, kicking at the sand that coated everything here to clear a space. His habitual frugality with his dwindling wood supply meant he had just enough left for a second fire. A small one.

Unexpectedly, his foot met the ground with a hollow thump, and he stopped in surprise. Kneeling to brush the sand aside with his hands, Link saw a square shape emerge with a metal ring attached, and realized with the familiar thrill of discovery that he'd uncovered a hidden doorway. Maybe some part of these ruins had survived, just buried beneath the sand. Glancing over his shoulder at the moon, Link considered his options. He had planned on sleeping out in the open tonight, but if there was even a chance at actual shelter… he would have to clear it out to be sure it was safe, but at least he'd sleep more soundly without the possibility of falling off. Nothing he found down there could compare to a Molduga.

Mind made up, Link grasped the metal ring and heaved, and the old door inched open with a groan, stale air wafting up to meet him. Another moment's investigation revealed a ladder that he descended cautiously, ears perked for the high-pitched squeak of Keese that liked to roost in dark places like this one. Maybe this place was too well hidden even for that, because he heard nothing but himself. After a much longer climb than he'd expected, his feet finally met stone, and he wasted no time in whipping out his Sheikah Slate to illuminate the room with its soft glow, prepared to draw his sword on the instant if anything moved.

Nothing did. Link stalked slowly forward, scanning his tiny bubble of sight before nodding abruptly. If he hadn't been attacked by now, he probably wouldn't be anytime soon, and he needed that fire. Stacking his wood beneath the trap door so smoke could escape, Link struck his flint with numb hands, nursing the spark it made with small bits of tinder and sighing in relief as it slowly gained strength, his huddled muscles unclenching in the welcome warmth. Only once the flames flickered to his satisfaction did he look around and realize where he'd ended up.

The door from above had placed him in a passageway that stretched out of sight to either side, but what made him grimace were the small rooms placed every few paces along the corridor, separated by bars. A prison, then. Link supposed a courthouse would need somewhere to hold its criminals before and after judging, though he could imagine many places he would have rather spent the night. No chests or discarded weapons were readily apparent, either. The only thing nearby of any substance was a stack of abandoned barrels, which Link rose reluctantly to examine. The odds of finding something useful might be slim, but he'd been pleasantly surprised before.

As it turned out, the barrels were useless, too rotten to use even for tinder, but fallen to the ground behind them was treasure of a different sort. Link's eyes lit up as he found an old, discarded torch, turning it over in his hands thoughtfully as he considered the unexplored passageway. With something to light his way and keep him warm, he could clear out the corridor more thoroughly… but beneath that practicality, he felt the familiar stirrings of curiosity. That was all he'd had to drive him back when he first woke up, before he'd had any memories of friends or duty to spur him on—the thrill of discovery as the unknown became known. He might never unearth all the secrets of this land, or even all the secrets of his mind, but forgotten things deserved to be remembered... and he was the only one around to do it.

Link lit the old torch with a single swipe, holding it close as he abandoned the warmth of his fire. It would still be burning by the time he returned. The first direction he chose ended quickly in rubble, so he walked down the other, free hand hovering near the hilt of his sword just in case. After a few tense minutes of thrusting a torch into each tiny room, the cells eventually came to an end, though the corridor only continued for a few more paces before it, too, ended in piles of broken stone.

Link stopped, caught between relief and disappointment. As reassuring as it was to know he would not be disturbed down here, he'd still been hoping for something a little more interesting than rocks, or at the very least, more useful. Walking forward to examine the cave-in—Link thought it looked old, but it was best to know for certain whether the ceiling might come crashing down around him as he slept—he heard a familiar, hollow thump beneath his feet and froze. In an instant he was on the ground, sweeping back the grit to reveal another door, this one more cleverly hidden than the last. There was no metal rung for ease of access, and even the patterning across the top matched that of the surrounding corridor, as if whoever had built it in had hoped for it to go unnoticed.

He didn't hesitate. Digging his fingers into the sides of it to wrench it open, Link followed the new ladder down, juggling the rungs and his torch with only a bit of difficulty. This _had_ to lead to something interesting.

Sure enough, he found himself in a second passageway that was rougher and less rigidly straight than the first, meandering its way even deeper into the earth. Link's excitement at his discovery ebbed a little as he remembered the caved in corridors above, and wondered whether a smaller tunnel like this would be more or less stable. If he got himself killed or buried beneath stone, the outside world would not survive his absence long. Zelda couldn't hold out against Ganon forever.

"Ten minutes," Link muttered, his words echoing faintly. "Then I'll turn back." He knew he shouldn't risk himself over so little, but there must be _something_ at the end of such an old tunnel. Why else would someone have gone to such lengths to hide it?

In the end, it only took a few more minutes of wandering before the passageway ended abruptly, the uncarved door at the end so nondescript that Link almost mistook it for a dead end. Setting his torch aside carefully to ensure it stayed lit, he heaved against the stone with all his strength, injured arm throbbing at the effort. Gradually, the door slid upwards with a deep, grating sound, until an ancient mechanism finally activated with a _'click'_ , holding it in place.

Retrieving the torch once more, Link thrust it forward—and bit back a gasp.

Diamond patterned tiles spiraled across the floor in a complex pattern much more ornate than the tunnel leading up to it. Words in an unfamiliar language had been painted in red across the mosaic's surface, but none of that was what Link noticed. Thrust upright into the circular chamber's center, ropes branching from the hilt in all directions as if to contain it, there stood an enormous black sword about as long as he was tall, its serrated blade glinting dully in the firelight.

Fascinated, Link stepped forward, mounting his torch absently in a niche beside the door. Tiny slips of fabric fluttered from the ropes upon his entry, each one printed with a more familiar text than what was scrawled across the floor. Sheikah work, it looked like—or Yiga. The two were difficult to tell apart.

Link dismissed the strips of fabric for the moment in favor of examining the sword itself. He couldn't shake the familiar sensation that he _knew_ this weapon, though he couldn't remember where or how. The small ruby just below the hilt glowed in the flickering fire, and something about the crossguard spreading out like wings around it tugged at his memory. Then his gaze traveled down to the three triangles emblazoned at the base of the blade, and realization hit. Drawing the darkness-sealing sword from his back, Link held it up to compare. The gem on his own sword gleamed gold instead of red, and the wings on his hilt were less jagged, but the similarities between the blades still startled him. Even those three triangles on his blade were the same, only inverted from the sword in front of him. Had the two swords been forged together in the long distant past, or had one weapon served as a template for the other? Why did his sword have a place in the legends, while this other stood buried and forgotten?

More importantly, what was he going to do with it? He knew instinctively that this sword was different from the many weapons he'd scavenged in the past. If the Sheikah had been the ones to hide it here then they'd probably had their reasons… but the Sheikah did not live in the desert. This was the Yiga's domain.

Link thought he remembered those triangles on the blade as the mark of the ancient goddesses. As dark and foreboding as the sword looked, it still might have been forged with some holy purpose. Either way, Link decided that whatever the Yiga wanted, he should probably oppose. He wasn't even sure that he could drag this massive blade up the ladder with him, much less all the way to Gerudo Town, but Link set his sword against a rope anyway to cut it through—and almost dropped the weapon at the urgent sense of _wrong_ flooding up his arm.

Inhaling sharply, Link looked down at his sword in confusion. Nothing about it seemed different now, but…

Experimentally, he held it to the rope again, and felt that same urgent feeling of _wrong, don't, shouldn't_ as the blade fell from his hand entirely. Stunned, Link could only stare. Was there some sort of magic in those little scraps of cloth that prevented his interference, or was it his sword? …The voice of the sword?

"Look who it is…"

Link fell backwards with a startled yell, fingers scrabbling for the hilt of his fallen weapon. Where the bound sword had been he now saw—but no. Link shook his head, confused. Why had he thought—

In an instant, it shifted again.

"That voice… I had almost forgotten…" Dry laughter echoed through the small room, then vanished abruptly. "Have you come to rescue me, hero?"

Link's eyes flickered, not sure where to focus as words failed him. Where one moment he saw a sword, the next he saw a kneeling man bound at the neck, his unkempt hair as pearly white as the moon should have been, his skin as black as the sword. The two images shifted back and forth in his mind, but before he could say a word, the battle was over, the man's head lifting slightly to meet Link's shocked gaze.

"Speechless as usual," he said, dark eyes dancing. "But then, you never were one for words, were you, Link?"

"Do I… know you?" Link asked warily, his hand finally finding its grip around his own sword's hilt, and the man's face brightened with anticipation. Unlike the rest of him, that face was pale, though marred along the edges by angular black cracks.

"Know me?" He laughed again softly, a too-long tongue slipping out to run across his white lips. Link watched it move in fascinated horror. "Intimately. In fact, I may know you better than anyone now living. Don't tell me you've forgotten?"

Irritation cracked through Link's surprise, and he gritted his teeth. Something in the man's mocking tone made it clear that he already knew the answer to his own question.

"I guess I have," he said carefully. No matter how many people Link said it to, the admission still hurt, although for once he wasn't sure that he wanted to remember this man. That feeling of _wrong_ was stronger than ever now. "It wasn't personal. I lost all of my memories from before the Calamity, though they've been coming back… slowly." The man said nothing, staring intently at him through cavernous eyes, and Link's gaze slid sideways to avoid his. "Since you seem to know my name, maybe you can tell me yours?"

"That's only fair," he mused, though for a moment Link thought he would refuse. "You may call me Ghirahim. In truth," he added, smiling as if at a private joke, "I very much prefer to be indulged with my full title, Lord Ghirahim… but I'm not fussy."

Link inclined his head.

"Lord Ghirahim," he murmured, and saw the other man's nonexistent brows lift a fraction as if he hadn't expected the concession. He supposed this _Ghirahim_ might have been a noble in the king's court, although his strangely cut, form-fitting outfit looked more like something an entertainer would wear. Maybe that was the joke, and he was not a lord at all.

Then again, Link wasn't convinced he was even human.

Either way, it didn't explain how Ghirahim had managed to survive so long, or who had trapped him here in the first place, or what had happened to the sword.

"How did you—" Link started to ask, but a sharp motion from Ghirahim cut him off.

"You have questions," he said, examining his own hands in a bored sort of way. "They are not nearly as interesting or relevant as my own, and I haven't the time to humor them. You do not know enough right now to know what should interest you."

Link frowned, more certain than ever that he didn't like this man.

"Tell me, then," he said shortly. "What _interesting_ questions should I ask instead?"

"That is a good start," Ghirahim said approvingly, as if he hadn't caught Link's sarcasm. Those sharp black cracks had retreated from his face, hovering now around his collarbone. "I will tell you—but first," he added, eyes glittering as he flicked a wrist in Link's direction, "I would prefer that you sheath that _sword_ of yours. You can hardly consider me a threat to you, bound as I am."

Eying the many ropes tied to his neck, Link had to admit that he had a point. He sheathed his blade reluctantly, and found as he released the hilt that a portion of his unease melted away.

"Much better," Ghirahim sighed. "I find that the only worthwhile discussions involve some level of trust, don't you? Don't be such a stranger, Link. Come closer." He crooked a finger, and Link's breath caught. "I can hardly see you over there."

Uncertainly, Link stepped forward until he stood within arm's reach, looking back to reassure himself of the open doorway behind him. The sword that sealed the darkness held no trust for Lord Ghirahim, which meant he shouldn't either. Maybe he should just leave now, and forget this place ever existed... but not yet.

Even kneeling, the bound man was tall enough to meet Link's eyes.

"Warm in here, isn't it?" Ghirahim murmured, wiping nonexistent sweat from his smooth brow, and Link realized with a start that he was right. He hadn't noticed the temperature before as he'd entered, too distracted by the strangeness of the sword, but now sweat beaded across his forehead and slipped between his shoulders. Despite his cooling armor, he felt light headed. "Sweltering, even. No helping it, I suppose. Stand there and let me look at you."

Link stood, swaying slightly as Ghirahim's shining eyes raked him over, taking in the map of faded scars that had killed him once, overlaid with every scar he had gathered since.

"You are certainly a reckless child," he said at last, and Link flinched, first at his choice of words, then again as Ghirahim raised a black finger to his bare chest. Stomach clenching beneath his touch, Link watched breathlessly as he traced along the longest of his scars, too shocked to consider pulling free. "No companion this time, either. What a lonely little journey you must be leading… and no green tunic to mark you? That alone would make me doubt who you are, if I did not know you and _that sword_ so well."

"Don't touch me," Link said, but Ghirahim ignored him. His words made no sense to Link. The Champion's tunic was blue.

"This clothing suits you better," Ghirahim decided with a grin. "You were always wild at heart, whatever thin veneer of culture the goddess managed to paint over you. Oh, if you insist," he added impatiently as Link opened his mouth to speak again, finally withdrawing his hand, and Link relaxed. That finger had felt sharp somehow, though a quick glance confirmed that it had left no mark. "Always so stuffy, you Hylians. Tell me, wild one, what _do_ you remember of your past?"

"I…" Ghirahim's fingers moved constantly in strange, nonsensical patterns, and Link watched them distractedly. Thick indents encircled his black wrists as if something had bound them recently, and looking down, Link noticed a discarded scrap of rope. He wondered why that detail should stick out to him. "Not much. I remember the Champions… some of them. Revali and Mipha, and Daruk. Just… just a few conversations. And… it's the same with Zelda." He grimaced, remembering Zelda's disdain for him in his most recent memory of her. "Not much."

"Fascinating," Ghirahim said dryly, though Link was sure he didn't imagine the malice that flickered through his eyes at Zelda's name. "And you consider it a tragedy to have lost the events of a single life, do you?"

Link stiffened at the realization that Ghirahim was _amused_ by his loss.

"I never said it was," Link growled, glancing back at the doorway again. He didn't need to stand here and be mocked… but still he didn't leave.

"You wouldn't," Ghirahim said, rolling his eyes. "You were always the type to suffer in silence, biting your tongue to hide what you truly thought. People called you brave for that, but it always looked like hiding to me."

Link's eyes narrowed. It didn't help that he agreed.

"If forgetting my life isn't tragic enough for you, then what is?" he asked irritably, wiping sweat from his brow, and Ghirahim's eyes glowed as if he'd anticipated the question.

"Forgetting a _hundred_ lives," he said, his voice echoing faintly. "Living and fighting and dying, again and again and again, never knowing _why_ you fight or that you have fought that battle before. When you defeat Ganon in this lifetime, do you think that will be the end? Was it the end for the last hero who defeated him? Do you even remember the last hero? I do." Ghirahim's lips split into a grin, revealing sharpened teeth. "The battle you fought with my master was not nearly as easy as the legends would have you believe, though the stories written of your accomplishments do tend to leave the juicy bits out. You knew Ganon well in that lifetime, a fact that was _never_ recorded, and you watched him become the monstrosity that you were always fated to defeat. The Guardians and Divine Beasts may have been on your side, but I assure you that you wept as you dealt the sealing blow."

"I…" Link felt dazed. That was not the story Kass had always told. "That's not… that was somebody else."

Unbidden, Zelda's words from a hundred years back resurfaced. _"Whether skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight…"_

"Wolfling," Ghirahim said relentlessly. "Fairy boy. _Sky child._ " That last name he spoke with particular relish. "You are all of these and more. You could think of them as different people, I suppose, inasmuch as we are all formed by our memories and experiences… but then, that would make the 'you' standing before me a completely different person from the 'you' whose lost memories you mourn. Why should he seem like such a great loss, when your other lives do not?"

"Because…" Link licked his lips. It was almost too hot for thought now. "Because I can still do something to bring him back. The others… they're beyond my reach." He felt it now, though, the distant pang of forgotten knowledge. Who _was_ he? Would he ever know the answer, with more of himself missing than he could have guessed?

"Beyond your reach? Perhaps." Ghirahim pinned him with an intense stare, his gesturing fingers coming suddenly to a halt as if pulling a thread tight. "Beyond my reach? Not at all."

He let the implication hover in the air as Link's eyes slowly widened.

"You would…" Link breathed. "You could…?"

"For a price, my wild one," he said, smirking. Link had thought his hair unkempt before, though now he couldn't imagine why. It hung to the side of his smoothly pale face in a shining curtain, sleek and strangely beautiful. "All things come at a price, though on a night like tonight…" He breathed in deeply, and the blackness that had faded to the tops of his arms retreated further, like ink withdrawing along angular cracks. "My master is restless… his power envelops us both. I think I could do anything, on a night like tonight."

Link stared, a sliver of apprehension finally slipping through his hazy thoughts. He could feel it, too, that dark, unsettled energy that accompanied every blood moon, and he wondered suddenly how close that moon had come to its peak in the unseen sky above.

On instinct, Link reached for his sword, and inhaled sharply as his fingers touched the hilt. The air around him grew frigid, and he stepped back in horror.

"Ghirahim," he said, voice shaking as his mind became suddenly, painfully clear. "Who is your master?"

Ghirahim looked at him for a long moment, expressionless. Then his face split into a wide, malicious grin.

"Let go of your sword, Link," he said softly. "Do not touch it again."

He gestured, and Link gritted his teeth as, finger by finger, his hand peeled away from the hilt to fall uselessly beside him. His breath came too fast as Ghirahim straightened in his bonds, considering him thoughtfully.

"I had thought to do this gently, but I think I prefer you like this," he said, reaching out to brush a thumb along Link's cheek. Link considered biting it. "Uncertain and angry, like the first time we met. So many _memories_ between us… _oh_ , but perhaps you cannot relate." He laughed as Link growled low in his throat.

"What do you want?" Link asked roughly, anger tightening his voice, but Ghirahim hushed him.

"Enough," he said, running a finger across his throat, and Link felt his words dry up. "Focus only on my eyes and move quickly. Our time is running out, and I can no longer tolerate your peculiar brand of defiance, however amusing I might find it otherwise."

Link saw Ghirahim's hands moving again out of the corner of his eyes, and felt his own hands move in response, but awareness of such things faded quickly. Ghirahim's dark eyes caught and held him, like twin caverns consuming him.

"I do not intend to hurt you," Ghirahim said, his voice strangely soothing. "Nor should you fear that I will run to my master's aid. He lost all need of my services when he abandoned hope and became that… _abomination_." Ghirahim scowled furiously at something Link didn't understand, though the expression softened as he heard something snap. "Yes, just like that. Quickly now, onto the next."

It was the blood moon, Link thought. That must be the source of his power, and the reason for his urgency, which meant this would all be over soon. Already, he could see the first red motes of light floating between them as the darkness stirred, and awakened.

Ghirahim hissed. He could see it, too.

"I should never have been imprisoned in the Arbiter's Grounds," he muttered. "A sword held captive for its master's crimes, can you imagine? Can a sword wield itself?" Another snap of rope, and he felt himself move on. "All those who once judged me are now dead, and incapable of providing release. How much longer should I be expected to rot here alone, even had I deserved my imprisonment? It stretches the bounds of justice, much less mercy."

Link glared, the only thing he was able to do. It sounded as if Ghirahim wanted Link's compassion, something he didn't feel much like granting at the moment. Anger boiled inside him as his movements continued, not his own.

A third rope rebounded with another snap, but the motes of light were coming faster now, the blood moon's peak mere moments away. Ghirahim held his gaze through narrowed eyes. He would not be free of his restraints in time.

"It seems that you are now the arbiter of my fate," Ghirahim said, bitterly amused. "And so I must appeal to you. I have not harmed you in all this, nor will I if you grant my freedom willingly. Surely you of all people can understand the desire to be free?"

Link felt his throat finally loosen, and laughed in Ghirahim's face.

"You should have asked for mercy before taking advantage," he snapped. The small voice in his head advising caution was lost in the strength of his fury. "It's not going to work now."

For a moment, Link thought Ghirahim might reach out and strangle him, but then the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"So be it."

The blood moon hit its zenith, every dark thing gaining power at once, and Ghirahim vanished in a flurry of diamonds with a single snap of his fingers. Startled, Link stumbled backwards—right into Ghirahim's waiting arms.

"Listen well, wild one," he whispered in Link's ear as the room glowed red around them. "We have fought each other many times, you and I, but I always tell the truth. What I promised you, what you want, I can give you that and more."

Link grunted, unable even to move as Ghirahim grasped his hand and lifted it to his lips, biting down carefully on his smallest finger until blood welled at the tip. Interlocking his own finger with Link's, the two of them watched as the blood dripped down them both.

"After all these years, that thread of fate still binds us," Ghirahim said, something dark in his voice. "You would not have stumbled down here otherwise. I call on the strength of it now. When the moon bleeds red, you will return to me once more."

"I won't," Link said, struggling, and Ghirahim's grip on him tightened.

" _You will_."

"I won't."

Sweat dripped down Link's face. Ghirahim's fingers moved back and forth, tying them together.

"You will."

"I WILL!"

Link's shout filled the room, crashing in around him until even its echoes faded away to nothing. Red motes vanished into the sudden silence.

Ghirahim was gone. In his place stood an enormous black sword, almost as long as Link was tall, its serrated blade glinting dully in the orange light. For a wild moment, Link thought it had all been a dream or hallucination, only…

Three of the ropes securing it had been sliced clean through, with another fraying tenuously. As Link watched, the cut ropes shriveled and faded away, their tiny slips of fabric vanishing into smoke.

"I won't—" Link looked down at his hands. One of them throbbed, a drop of blood falling from his smallest finger to splatter onto the tiled floor. His other hand clutched a black dagger he had never seen before, a tiny red ruby embedded just below the hilt. He dropped it, and watched it disappear in a soft flurry of diamonds.

"I won't be back here!" he yelled at the sword. "Are you listening? Keep your memories to yourself! I won't—"

Fumbling over his shoulder, Link drew his sword, holding it out in front of him, and felt nothing. No warning voice, no feeling of unease. The danger, as far as the sword knew, had passed.

Abruptly, Link shivered, every bead of sweat against his overheated skin freezing him at once.

"I won't be coming back here," Link promised, backing away from the room's center and grabbing the torch from its place in the wall, brandishing it along with his sword. "I'm serious. You can take your thread of fate and hang yourself with it, because I—won't—come!"

Link's back hit the wall, and with a start, he realized that he'd backed right out of the room into the tunnel outside. With a last, furious glare, Link ran, and didn't stop running until he reached the ladder. Only then did he sheath his sword, though he climbed it just to start running once more.

His fire had burned down to coals by the time he returned, and Link stoked it to life with his torch, pacing and rubbing his hands in agitation, each heartbeat pulsing through his finger a reminder of what he had almost done. The Molduga rumbling around outside felt inconsequential in comparison.

He had to get out of the desert. He couldn't chance being here the next… the next time… Only he had nowhere else to go. Every Divine Beast was free now except Naboris. He needed to get the Thunder Helm back from the Yiga Clan so Riju could help him board it, and… and he wasn't going to run from this.

Link flushed, realizing he had literally just fled the buried room below, but his resolve stayed the same. He shouldn't have to distance himself from this place just to be safe. The next blood moon would meet him in the desert, and he just wouldn't go, and that was that. If he had his way, he would never return to the Arbiter's Grounds again.

Finger throbbing, Link curled up on the ground beside the fire, refusing to question his deep relief at deciding to remain. Tendrils of exhaustion enveloped him, and he found himself falling into sleep's embrace despite his racing mind. Who had he been in all those lifetimes Ghirahim claimed to have known him through? Who would he be now, if he could remember?

"I won't go," Link muttered again, before drifting off into dreams that he would forget upon waking.

In the darkness far beneath him, the fraying rope stretched and snapped, and soft laughter echoed, unheard.


	2. Chapter 2

...Looks like I'm continuing this. Don't expect a regular update schedule because I really am trying to push through BBN, but here's this for now :D

* * *

The vast expanse of the desert laid sprawled out and silent, its golden sand turned cool, dusty violet in the burnished light of the fading sun. Perched on the outstretched head of Vah Naboris, Link watched it all pass beneath him in slow, rhythmic arcs as the Divine Beast took one halting step after another, its enormous frame rumbling at each heavy impact. He had long since grown used to the constant, lurching motion, although at first it had thrown him off his balance. The precisely circular burn that had singed him through his Sheikah chest guard was testament to that.

Vah Naboris had proven trickier than the other Divine Beasts to puzzle through, but Link finally had it almost tamed now. All that remained was to activate the main control unit, a feat that previous experience said was easier said than done. Link didn't think he wanted to fight whatever oozing beast had managed to kill Urbosa. The chiseled, confident woman had seemed indestructible in memory… but then, all of the Champions had been that way. It was ludicrous to him that he had so far found success where each of them had failed, and he couldn't help but feel that surely his luck would run out any day now.

Urbosa's last, echoing words throughout the Divine Beast had warned him against overconfidence, but somehow, he didn't think that would be a problem. Not against this enemy, at least. He had already proven his tendency to be overconfident against others.

None of that was the cause of his delay, though. To be honest, Link didn't know why he hadn't triggered that final fight yet. He thought he could sense Urbosa's growing impatience in the cooling air around him, even if it was only his imagination, but still he sat, watching the desert darken beneath him. Off in the distance, he recognized a familiar grouping of broken columns buried in the sand. His finger hurt.

Scowling at that last thought, Link stuck the offending finger in his mouth to suck on irritably. The pain was small compared to what he'd grown used to, but intrusive. It shouldn't have hurt at all, considering that the small bite had healed over long since with only a fading scar to prove its existence, but as the day inched towards night it had steadily begun throbbing once more.

Link feared that he knew all too well what that might mean.

Eyes straying again towards the columns, he found himself making the same absent calculations he'd made almost every night for the past week. If he leapt from Naboris now and glided his way over, he could cover almost half the distance from here to the Arbiter's Grounds in the air. Running through sand would slow him down, but he thought he could make it to the underground room with plenty of time left before the blood moon hit its peak—assuming it even happened tonight. He still had time before the moon came peeking over the highlands to let him know for sure.

If the moon did rise red, then waiting for only a little longer would take him past the tipping point, proving once and for all that Ghirahim's parting command had been nothing more than wishful words. Then he could awaken the blighted beast inside Naboris without fearing that some outside power might draw him away, interrupting their battle and causing untold havoc.

If he was wrong and the moon rose white, so much the better. Maybe he could free Naboris and get out of the desert quickly enough that it wouldn't matter. Either way, for now he intended to sit here and wait. Nothing could make him go where he didn't want to go if he simply didn't move.

His face a steel mask of determination, Link settled back. And shoved himself off the edge.

By the time his mind caught up with the rest of him, Link had already pulled out his paraglider, aiming it like an arrow towards the Arbiter's Grounds.

"No!" he yelped in frustration, craning his neck to look back at the Divine Beast he'd abandoned. His course didn't deviate by an inch, though, and he hit the ground running, cold sand kicking up behind him. The ruby bouncing against his forehead sparked to life the moment the freezing air turned painful, warming him like a small flame from the inside, but even that didn't melt away the icy fear gripping his heart, or the cold fury. He couldn't let this happen.

With an effort, Link forced his entire being to focus on a single command— _STOP!_ —and slowly his traitorous legs came to a shuddering halt, ankle deep in the sand. Panting but triumphant, Link slumped against his knees to catch his breath, glancing up at the sky—and shot forward once more, groaning as he regained momentum. In the sky above the distant highlands, barely visible but rising steadily, Link's eyes had picked out the smallest sliver of red.

Stalizalfos rose from the sand as he ran, bones stacking atop each other to brandish their wickedly forked blades at him, and in trying to run forward and whirl back to face them, Link tripped. No sooner had he hit the ground with a grunt than the closest one was upon him, scuttling across the sand with frightening speed to slash its forked weapon at his thigh.

Even as Link cried out, his hand found his sword's hilt. The skeletal lizards fell easily, a vicious blow to the skull destroying each one, but as soon as they had fallen Link was running again, this time with a limp. Blood flowed freely down his leg, soaking tights that were designed for stealth rather than armor, and Link gritted his teeth as his legs pumped silently through the night. With each throbbing step, his fury grew stronger, finally overwhelming his fear. Maybe Ghirahim could summon him back with little more than a word and a crooked finger, but this time he wouldn't catch Link by surprise. If he tried to wave his hands around again, Link thought he'd feel no remorse in chopping them off—and he would _not_ let go of his sword.

The nauseating stench of rotting Molduga flesh did not improve his mood. Link gagged as he stumbled his way past the enormous corpse, approaching the familiar stone structure with dread. Deciding that he was in no mood for climbing tonight, he instead reached into the hidden strength burning beneath his skin, and felt the wind swirl up around him as the ghostly form of Revali appeared to carry him into the sky. Not for the first time, Link wondered whether the Champions could see him in those brief moments when he called on their power. Did Revali know how hard and fast Link had run to meet his own doom, or was the figure that appeared before him only the ghost of a ghost, offering the gift of flight but nothing more?

Maybe it was Link's imagination, but as the Rito champion vanished into ghostly flames, he thought he saw a spark of pity in those fading green eyes.

Drifting down to land atop the stone, Link tugged at the hidden entrance. The blood moon had pulled free of the distant cliffs now, enormous and blazing as it started its slow ascent across the sky, but Link's view of it was suddenly cut off, his hands and burning leg lowering him rung by rung down the long ladder towards the man—was it only a man?—waiting patiently in the darkness below.

Then his feet hit the ground, and whatever force had pulled at him finally eased its grip, satisfied perhaps that he would make it there now with time to spare. Wiping sweat from his face with a shaky hand, Link limped down the dark row of cells carefully, his dimly lit Sheikah Slate not nearly enough to light his path. The remains of his old fire sat abandoned where he had left it along with the torch, but even if the wood hadn't burned up beyond usefulness, he had no way of lighting a fire now and no time left to do so. It would be a dark journey down to the passage's depths, the only upside being that he would not be able to see Ghirahim's smirking face at the end.

Link clung to his anger as he descended the second ladder, drawing his sword to grope his way blindly down the tunnel and feeling it tremble in his hand. This time, he wouldn't give Ghirahim the chance to control him. As soon as this compulsion left his limbs he would be gone, and no force magical or physical could convince him to return. If the ancient Sheikah had felt it necessary to bind Ghirahim here forever, then he had no reason to disagree with their judgment and every reason not to.

His sword clinked unexpectedly against the stone doorway at the tunnel's end, and he stopped with a start, bending to wrench open the door that had fallen shut again in his absence. Once more, it held above him with a soft click, and Link stepped forward, his heart pounding with furious—and as much as he denied it, fearful—anticipation. For a long, breathless moment he waited in absolute darkness for something to happen, hoping against hope that nothing would. Then the echoing sound of laughter washed over him, and Link gritted his teeth as a red gem burst into glowing life between them, barely illuminating Ghirahim's grinning face. So much for that.

"Ahhh, Link! Welcome back!" The red light shone brighter, taking in the entire circular chamber, and Ghirahim sent it to hover over them with a sweeping gesture as Link squinted uncomfortably. "Don't tell me you ran all the way here? If I had known you were so eager—"

He cut off as Link's sword whipped around to rest against his throat.

"Shut up," Link growled, wishing he could stop his voice from shaking, though the combination of nerves and exertion made that impossible. "If you thought that forcing me back here would accomplish anything, you were wrong. I'm leaving now, and if I even _think_ you're about to twitch a finger on my way out, I'll _cut it off!_ "

Link wrenched his jaw closed, panting hard behind clenched teeth. He hadn't meant to shout.

Ghirahim's dark eye considered him, glittering in the crimson light, though the hair falling across his face hid his expression. His appearance had settled on pale skin and dark arms, with angular cracks forming the border between the two, and though it was a relief for Ghirahim to be still and predictable for once rather than hovering constantly on the brink of change as he had on their last strange encounter, it made him feel disconcertingly _solid_ in a way that he hadn't before. At least the remaining ropes with their thin slips of fabric still held, fluttering with Ghirahim's slightest movements. Maybe the few Link had cut before wouldn't matter as long as these were left to bind him.

"I forget sometimes that you are almost half beast," Ghirahim muttered, before his voice took on a sickly sympathetic tone. "You sound upset. Don't tell me you were in the middle of something important when I pulled you away?"

"You—" Eyes widening, Link pressed his sword harder against Ghirahim's throat, though to Link's frustration he didn't flinch. Fleetingly, he wondered whether a man who was also a sword could even be harmed by steel weapons. "You have no idea—" The Guardian Scouts on Vah Naboris would be back once the blood moon finished its path across the sky, as would the concentrated pools of Malice he'd cleared, all of which he'd need to laboriously clear again. This newest injury to his leg would require his strongest elixir to heal, which meant he'd need to prepare another one of those before battling the blight of Naboris, which meant gathering up all the necessary ingredients. His tights needed mending too, and _that_ meant a visit to the Great Fairy, and—

"I think I have _some_ idea," Ghirahim said, his gaze sliding to Link's sluggishly bleeding leg, and Link tensed further as his inhumanly long tongue snaked slowly across his lips. "Do you feel trapped, my wild beast? Contained? Coerced by forces neither just nor merciful?" His laughter was short and mocking. "In truth, my sympathy for your plight extends only so far. Misery loves company, as they say, and there is no person I would rather share it with than you, Link."

"That's too bad," Link said hoarsely, stepping back and feeling emboldened that he could. The compulsion to remain was gone now. "Because I'm leaving."

"So you've said." Ghirahim's eyes narrowed before he let out a deep, almost forlorn sigh. Shoulders hunched against the dim red light, he looked suddenly small. "Very well. It is almost unpardonably rude to leave so soon after arriving, but nobody ever accused you of having manners. Perhaps in another life we will…" His voice faded away, his gaze focusing sharply on something just over Link's shoulder, and Link made a mistake he would kick himself over for weeks after. He turned his head to look.

The stone door fell shut almost on his heels, and Link stumbled forward with a yelp. His head whipped around just in time to catch Ghirahim snapping his fingers, prompting an ominous _click_ from the closed door.

"Announcing your plans is rarely conducive to achieving them," he remarked casually, his moment of apparent weakness vanishing as he studied his fingernails. "You forced that lesson upon me once, so it is only fitting now that I do the same."

"What did you do?" Link demanded breathlessly, in disbelief that he'd been fooled so easily. He resisted the urge to scrabble his fingers along the door's edge, instead aiming his sword more urgently in Ghirahim's direction. "Open the door! Don't move another finger!"

"I can't do both." Ghirahim's obvious amusement needled Link further. "Now you control my freedom and I control yours… although I may still allow you to leave in the end if I'm feeling particularly—"

"Wait." Link's shoulders shook as he fumbled for his Sheikah Slate one-handed, laughing at his own stupidity. Flicking through the screens until he found the map, Link looked triumphantly up at Ghirahim, still not lowering his sword by an inch. "I guess I'm not as easily trapped here as you are. Have fun rotting here forever."

Freeing Naboris was out of the question tonight and Gerudo Town would never let him in dressed like he was, so Link jabbed his thumb against the symbol inside Zora's Domain, eager to watch Ghirahim's stunned face as Link vanished before his eyes. He might as well escape this dry air for a night, if he had to go somewhere… but instead, the fading symbols painted on the floor beneath him shone a brief, brilliant white, and Link's body twitched as pain shot through him, sending the Sheikah Slate flying from its tenuous grip to clatter across the floor.

Ghirahim sighed, clearly unimpressed.

"As I was saying," he drawled pointedly while Link stumbled forward to retrieve the slate, still blinking back stars, "I may allow you to leave if I'm feeling particularly merciful, though I'm starting to think I might rather—how did you put it?—have fun watching you rot here forever. Oh, come now," he added, his lips twisting maliciously as Link stared at him in dumb confusion. "Don't you think I would have escaped ages ago if it was as simple as that? You're stuck here until I say otherwise, so why not sit down and we'll have a little chat?"

Link stiffened. The realization that he'd been tricked, coerced, and _trapped_ here hit him all at once, and he lashed out unthinkingly. With a roar, Link lunged forward with his sword, not caring if it met hands or neck or heart—and numbness gripped him as Ghirahim caught the blade between his fingers.

"Sit down," Ghirahim repeated softly, and Link's muscles locked up in panic, though there was nothing commanding about his words. "Tend to your wound. You look as if you might collapse at any moment."

"What _are_ you?" Link muttered under his breath in horror, only realizing he had been heard when Ghirahim gave a soft, delighted laugh. Glaring furiously, Link wrenched his sword free, took a step back—and nearly stumbled onto his backside as his leg chose that moment to waver, all of his pain and exhaustion and blood loss striking out at him at once. Ghirahim was right again, the goddess curse him for it.

Link managed to wobble to the room's edge before his strength gave out, and he sank against the wall as far from Ghirahim as he could manage, leaning over his leg to examine it in the dim light. He couldn't make out much, but what he could see made him wince.

The crimson light grew brighter, and Link glanced up quickly, earning himself a raised eyebrow.

"Flighty little bird tonight, aren't you?" Ghirahim murmured, and Link's jaw tightened as he reached into his pack to pull out his saved elixir and a small bottle of water. Stiffly, he peeled out of his tights, hissing through his teeth as the fabric clung to his congealing wound and fresh blood began to leak through. Spikes of pain stabbed at him as he carefully picked out the wisps of blue fabric that his garment had left behind, washing it all with lukewarm water that he paused to take a deep swig out of. The slash had gathered too much dirt to heal now without cleaning it first, not unless he wanted to deal with sand pushing its way through his skin for weeks to come… though with Ghirahim's gaze lingering so uncomfortably, a part of him thought it might be worth it.

"Have you considered my offer?" Ghirahim asked suddenly, and Link glanced up at him sideways. Of course he had. It had been almost the only thing he thought about, when he wasn't occupied with infiltrating the Yiga Clan, or taming Naboris, or worrying over the next blood moon. Still, even if Ghirahim held all the power here, Link didn't have to make things easy on him.

His silence stretched on stubbornly, and Ghirahim's expression slowly darkened.

"I wonder how much air this room can hold?" he asked with a casual tone so false it grated. "Enough to last you through one night, certainly, but through two? What about seven? Until the next blood moon? Who can say?"

…Then again, maybe this wasn't the hill Link wanted to die on.

"I have," he grunted. Satisfied that he'd washed away as much sand as possible, Link popped the cork off his elixir, downing it with a grimace. The fire in his leg rose to an inferno before fading away abruptly, the flesh knitting itself back together to form a shiny red scar as Link stretched experimentally. His leg would be stiff for hours still, but by morning he would walk without a limp.

Ghirahim watched it all silently, his thoughts well hidden behind an enigmatic expression.

"Well?" he said at last when Link didn't elaborate, and Link finally met his gaze.

"No."

One second passed, and then another.

"No?" Ghirahim repeated. Link almost flinched at the dangerous tone, but remained firm.

"No." He thought he succeeded in sounding certain, though inside that same old curiosity that had gotten him into this mess in the first place gnawed at him furiously. Were those old heroes really _him_ in any way that mattered? Even if they were, though, Link didn't want to find out like this. Not from Ghirahim. "The goddess gives us one life to live at a time for a reason, I think. I can accept what I've been given."

"Hmmm… ha!" To Link's surprise, Ghirahim laughed. He was starting to suspect that Ghirahim responded to most situations with laughter, its various tones indicating far more than mere amusement if only Link knew how to read them. "A wise choice, though I did not expect you to see it. Memories have weight, and to bear so many is a heavy, lonely thing. You have no idea how free you are, bearing none at all…" His strangely wistful expression vanished in an instant as he clapped his hands decisively, and Link jumped, though the action had no obvious effect. "But that is for you to discover on your own. I assume you at least wish for your most recent memories returned?"

"I…" The denial died in his throat. It was too great a lie to say otherwise.

The corners of Ghirahim's lips curled upwards.

"As I thought. I have two offers to extend to you, then. The first is by far the greater deal, though I don't think you're smart enough to take it." Link's eyes narrowed, but he nodded for Ghirahim to go on. Refusing to listen would only anger him further. "I will restore to you every missing memory you so desperately pine after, but in exchange you must cut through every rope restraining me."

"No." Link didn't even let himself consider it, pushing the possibility from his mind. The temptation to accept was too strong.

"Of course," Ghirahim sighed, strands of white hair fluttering around his lips. "Just what about my freedom is so repulsive to you?"

"Really?" Link demanded. "You think you can ask that after all… this?" He wiggled his fingers in demonstration, and Ghirahim tossed his head dismissively.

"Have I tried _this_ —" he wiggled his fingers right back, and Link twitched— "even once since you arrived here tonight?" Link scowled. He hadn't, but the fact that he'd forced Link here in the first place made his point less persuasive than it might have been. "That was uncomfortable for you, perhaps, but not harmful. In fact, only one of us has attempted to murder the other—but that might be how you treat everyone who inconveniences you."

"Yeah, or maybe my past lives remember you after all," Link snapped to hide his sudden unease. The threat of Ghirahim had felt so immediate when he swung his sword, but… was it? The bite on his finger was an annoyance at best, and Ghirahim had not controlled the Stalizalfos. Then again, if there was a fate worse than death, being reduced to a human puppet must be up there.

"Oh Link," Ghirahim chortled, his gaze filled with such sudden _heat_ that Link would have backed away further if he hadn't already been up against the wall. "You have no idea how some of your past lives must remember me."

His tongue flicked across his lips suggestively, and Link grasped blindly for his discarded tights, his face heating up.

"What was your other offer?" he asked, forcing himself to dress again slowly, though he knew it was too late for that. Surely there was no past life where he would have even _considered…_ no, definitely not.

"My second offer grants you considerably more _wiggle_ room, I think," Ghirahim said with a smirk, and Link's flush deepened as he tried to inch the rest of the way into his tights without moving his hips, wondering if Ghirahim could really make any word sound like _that_ … but the man's next words swept such concerns from his mind. "A single memory for a single rope severed. There are plenty of them left, you see." His expansive gesture took in the handful of ropes that still held. "It looks like you could claim… oh, about five of them if you wished to take full advantage."

Link licked his lips nervously, almost lightheaded as he considered the prospect. _Five_ memories. Five new points of light to illuminate who he was… but he couldn't accept, for more reasons than one.

"Five would only leave one rope left," he objected, counting them with a frown. "I wouldn't trust that to hold you."

Ghirahim rolled his eyes.

"Four then, or three if you're feeling timid about it. It makes little difference to me in the end. I remain trapped either way."

"So why make the offer?" Link asked, eyes narrowing. "Why help me if you get nothing out of it?"

"Half of my obstacles removed are not 'nothing,'" Ghirahim retorted. "Three slices in the future are easier made than six. It is not a matter of _if_ I am freed, but _when,_ and I would hasten the process along if I could… none of which is any threat to you personally, so I don't see why it bothers you so. Then again," Ghirahim added with a sudden, sharp grin, "a thread of fate has always bound our souls. Who can say what else it has in store for us?"

"It has not," Link mumbled, realizing he sounded petulant but still certain that Ghirahim was wrong. He'd never heard anything like that from the stories, or Kass's songs, or from Impa, or… or anywhere. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I reject that offer, too."

For one wild moment, Link thought Ghirahim might somehow manage to strike him despite the intervening distance, but the feeling passed as quickly as it came. Ghirahim threw back his head and laughed, the black diamond etched into his cheek visible for one brief second.

"Oh, of course!" he said, dark eyes shining in the dim red light. "Silly me! I might have known that you were afraid."

Link responded with a dry laugh of his own.

"Could you be any more obvious?" he demanded scornfully, but Ghirahim shook his head.

" _You_ are that obvious, Link, just as you always were. If you are not yet content with what memories you have, it is because you do not like the man you see in them. You are certain that there must be something more… but the more of your past that you see, the greater the risk that there _is_ nothing more. Perhaps you were only ever the man you saw, the same man you are now."

"You…" Link paused to lick his lips, his voice suddenly hoarse. For the first time, it occurred to him to wonder _how_ Ghirahim would restore his memories. Had he been in Link's mind already? The thought made his skin crawl. "You don't know me."

"Neither do you," Ghirahim was quick to point out, his dark gaze as sharp as a blade. "You could, though, if you had the courage. _Do_ you have the courage?"

Link felt his resolve starting to waver, his eyes flicking between the remaining ropes as he calculated how many it might take to hold him. Ghirahim's taunts were obvious for what they were, of course, but in a way it almost didn't matter. Not if he was right.

"You'll find a way to take advantage," he said weakly, because it was true. He didn't believe for a second that Ghirahim would really be content to watch him leave without freeing himself if he could.

"Will I?" Ghirahim shrugged, and though it was impossible to appear truly at ease with his neck suspended between ropes as it was, he made a good impression of it. "Well, take your time deciding. I'm not in a hurry either way."

The strange assertion made Link pause. Shouldn't he be? Even unseen, the red moon would be advancing overhead. Their dwindling time pressed on Link, a constant reminder that he had only so much of it left to make his decision, so why shouldn't it press on him? Ghirahim had to know that once the moon hit its peak, Link would leave and never return… assuming he unlocked the door.

That was something else to consider, Link realized with an unpleasant swoop of his stomach. That smile Ghirahim wore so easily was a painted facade, and he knew it. If Link remained stubbornly unhelpful, would he still be allowed to leave?

"What would the deal be, exactly?" he asked at last, climbing cautiously to his feet and trying not to feel quite so eager. Trapping himself down here would save nobody, after all.

Ghirahim's smooth, sharp-toothed grin did nothing to ease his fears.

"A new rope cut through in exchange for each memory unlocked," he said as Link approached, sheathing his sword reluctantly. It wouldn't do him much good if he actually intended to go through with this. "You will cut the rope all the way through, mind. No skirting around the deal by slicing it halfway."

Link took a deep breath. This was definitely a mistake, but the more he considered it, the more he thought he really had no choice.

"Fine," he said shortly, his heart beating faster. At least he might get something out of it this way. "But the memory comes first. Then I cut the rope."

"That's your condition?" Ghirahim said in amusement, and Link froze. Was there something he'd forgotten? He thought maybe there was, but his mind only spun in useless, nervous circles. "I don't see how it matters, but I accept. This agreement will be binding through each exchange we make, so there's no chance of either of us backing out."

"Just one," Link said sharply, extending his hand with great reluctance. He could close up that loophole, at least, even if the rest came back to haunt him. "I only want one memory."

"Only one, hmm?" Ghirahim repeated in a murmur, his blackened hand encasing Link's like the bars of a cage. "Well… we shall see."

Link grimaced at the now-familiar feeling of _wrongness_ that surged through him at the touch, binding him to their shared promise, but though the foreign presence retreated soon enough, it didn't vanish entirely. Instead it consolidated, centering around his head with a shuffling sensation. He squirmed in Ghirahim's vicelike grip at the unwelcome feeling, already having second thoughts.

"What are you—"

"Interesting," Ghirahim said, ignoring him, and Link found to his horror that he couldn't tell whether the voice came from inside his mind or without. Just what sort of intrusion had he agreed to? "Your memories are all perfectly intact, but… disconnected. Ahh, but this one feels important. I think if I just—"

Link grunted more in shock than in pain as something in his head seemed to snap into place, and he felt himself go rigid, the small, crimson chamber dissolving around him. Though Link's missing memories had never come gently to him before, there had always been some sort of catalyst that triggered their arrival, be it statue or location or picture on his slate—something that hinted at what sort of vision was about to swallow him whole. This felt more like being thrown off a cliff blindfolded, with no way of knowing what awaited him at the bottom. His mouth gaped open soundlessly, eyes wide and unseeing as—

" _Please, Link, I promise that the Sheikah keep a very effective watch. I suspect it is not in your nature, but I had hoped for just one night that you might take the chance to… relax?"_

 _Link blinked in surprise to find the princess earnestly watching him from over the top of her ever-present book of notes, and let his hand fall slowly away from the hilt of his sword where it had wandered. The flames of a campfire crackled between them, licking around the skewers of gourmet meat Link had set expertly over the coals and lighting Zelda's face dimly from below as she nodded in satisfaction, turning back to her notes with her tongue stuck out just past the edge of her lips. Other campfires burned nearby with Zelda's small retinue of Sheikah and royal guards occupying them, and their tents had been built in a circle to surround the princess's larger pavilion. Even if some enemy did manage to sneak past the watch, they would have a circle of armed opponents to contend with before reaching the princess, not to mention Link himself… but the recent attack by the Yiga Clan still had him on edge. It was probably in the princess's best interests that he_ not _relax, whatever she wanted, though the motivation behind her sudden interest in his comfort was a mystery in itself. Zelda could rarely be described as predictable, her moods shifting quickly depending on the success of her research, the frustration of her prayers, and her proximity to the castle and her father, but since they'd returned from their most recent survey of Vah Naboris, she'd been acting… different. Not in a bad way, exactly—she snapped at him less now, even if she stared at him more—but still. Different._

" _Well now," she said, finishing her sentence with a satisfied flourish and blowing on the ink as it dried. "That really was quite successful. I can hardly believe how quickly Mipha has learned to control her Divine Beast! It's almost as if they've… bonded." Her lips pursed together thoughtfully—maybe even enviously?—but after a moment's pause she waved her hand. "A difficult thing to quantify, but still worth looking into. I wonder if Revali would describe it in similar—Link, please!"_

 _Link didn't quite jump at the princess's exclamation, though he did quickly uncrane his neck, straightening under her admonitory expression. It had just occurred to him how unprecedented it was that they'd gone undisturbed for so long. There should have been some Sheikah researcher or other clamoring for Zelda's attention, but instead they'd been left in relative peace._

 _Sighing, Zelda snapped her small book shut, reaching for the satchel by her feet._

" _Maybe this will help," she muttered, pulling out two tightly wrapped bowls of… food? Link couldn't help it. His interest perked. "I know it's a bit unorthodox, but since we're waiting on dinner anyway, I thought it might be fun to start with dessert tonight? Mipha told me that you were once fond of the sweet rice pudding the Zora make on special occasions, and I managed to procure some before we left. If you would like to…?"_

 _She gestured hesitantly at the seat beside her, and Link nodded slowly, rising. Mipha had been right, though Link didn't think anyone other than the princess of Hyrule herself could have convinced a Zora to prepare the dish outside of a festival. The Zora were strict in their observance of spiritual holidays, with traditions set practically in stone for millennia—but the spiced aroma that wafted towards him as she peeled the waxed fabric from the first shallow bowl matched that of his memories._

 _His stomach growled loudly and a small smile lit Zelda's face, though she graciously didn't mention it._

" _Sit with me," she insisted, pressing the bowl into his hands with a wooden spoon. "That meat still has a few minutes left on the fire, I think."_

 _He sat a bit awkwardly, not quite meeting her gaze. It couldn't be more clear that she'd set this moment up with some sort of purpose in mind, though he hadn't a clue as to what. Then the first bite passed his lips, and for a moment he really did relax. It had been years since he last visited Zora's Domain during a festival, but he was surprised by how well he remembered the sweet, almost smoky flavor bursting across his tongue, carried by sweet, creamy grains of rice._

" _Mipha says that you ate five bowls of this the first time she met you," Zelda said, opening her own portion and dipping in her spoon in a much more restrained manner. Too late, Link realized that he was already on his third bite. "She also told me that you were a lively, talkative child then. It's remarkable how much can change with the years, isn't it?"_

 _Link's next bite slowed on its way to his mouth, and he eyed her askance. Was that what she and Mipha had discussed for so long together on Vah Ruta?_ Him? _…What_ else _had Mipha told her? The possibilities ranged from mundane to mortifying, but luckily the warm light of the flames hid the faint blush that rose in his cheeks as he considered it._

" _Link, I… I feel I owe you an apology," Zelda admitted softly, fiddling with her spoon. "We ought to be partners in this fight, don't you think? Even if I cannot yet carry my end of—" She cut off, and took a deep breath. "We ought to be partners, yet instead I have treated you as an undeserved outlet for my frustrations, and I'm sorry. I know I have done nothing to earn your confidence in me and perhaps never will… but if you'll allow me to, I can at least try to make amends."_

 _Link's brow furrowed as he set aside the empty bowl, unsure how to respond. Was that why she thought he didn't speak to her? The last thing he'd wanted to convey with his silence was a lack of confidence. Nobody needed the burden of his thoughts and worries weighing them down now, the princess least of all… but then, the very nature of silence made it difficult to clarify his intentions. Was his choice to not speak more damaging than he'd realized? If he tried to say something now, he knew the words would come out wrong._

" _I don't expect a response from you tonight, if at all," she assured him as if she'd somehow read his thoughts, and Link took a moment to steady his breathing, staring into the fire. "I just wanted you to know that I—oh!"_

 _She blinked in surprise as Link jumped to his feet, then smiled ruefully as she saw what had distracted him. Their dinner was on the point of burning._

" _Forgive me," she laughed as he hurriedly pulled the skewers out of the fire, waving them gently to encourage the meat to cool. "How foolish it would be if my attempt at an apology spoiled your supper."_

 _Link shrugged, handing the princess her portion, which she took thoughtfully._

" _I wonder," she murmured, "if perhaps… I don't intend to pressure you, of course! I just thought that, if we wish to become better acquainted, perhaps we should start somewhere simple? For instance," she said with a smile, "my favorite food is the fruitcake prepared in the castle's kitchens. What—if I may ask—is yours?"_

 _Link hesitated, blowing on his food as he glanced surreptitiously around them. Nobody appeared to be watching—or at least, nobody was close enough to listen in. Zelda's eyes on his face were shining and uncertain, ready to take the simple question back at his first sign of discomfort—and it_ was _a simple question, something even Link and his fumbling words couldn't mess up._

 _His hands shook, but he opened his mouth, his decision made. He could do this much, for her._

The vision began to fade. Link watched it go in silent protest, trying desperately to retain the rest of the memory even as it slipped through his grip like grains of sand, until—

"One memory, as promised," Ghirahim pronounced, sounding unbearably smug as Link gasped and opened his eyes, the red-tinted chamber falling back into place around him.

"You cheated," he said blankly, tearing his hand free and wiping it against his leg as if he'd dipped it in something filthy. He only wished he could so easily cleanse his mind of that dirty feeling, as well. "You—that wasn't—"

He stopped, his thoughts whirling in an attempt to slot what he'd just seen along with everything else. Those smoky spices still rested on his tongue, and he wondered absently if Sidon could get him some, if asked. More importantly, he had _spoken_ —or so it seemed—and Zelda had maybe not altogether hated him. It was more than he'd had before, though he still fixed Ghirahim with a glare.

"That doesn't count," he growled. "You _knew_ you were stopping it before the most important part." Just _one word_ , spoken from his own lips. Was that too much to ask?

"Oh my little wild one, how could I have possiblyknown that?" Ghirahim demurred, though his eye glinted shrewdly. "And it _does_ count, by the way." He snapped his fingers, and a jeweled black dagger appeared suddenly in Link's hand. "You're fortunate that I showed you a memory so pertinent to your desires at all, much less that it lasted as long as it did. Think twice next time you make a deal—or at the very least, think once."

His black finger beckoned, and Link gritted his teeth as he stepped sullenly forward, raising the dagger to one of the six remaining ropes. It didn't help his pride to realize that Ghirahim had a point, and he had thoroughly failed to protect himself from what now felt like obvious pitfalls. The only real mystery was why Ghirahim had not taken advantage more than he had.

"Show me the rest of it, then," Link demanded, flicking his eyes towards the remaining ropes as the one he was cutting snapped and the black dagger vanished into diamond flecks. There were five of them left—more than enough to risk losing another. This was his last chance. "One rope for the rest of that conversation, but you _have_ to show me all of it. No tricks, or… or anything."

"Hmm…" Ghirahim made a show of considering it, rolling his neck languorously as if testing his constraints. Finally, he fixed Link with a grin. "No."

Link blinked, feeling suckerpunched.

"...What?"

"I said, 'no.'" Ghirahim enunciated each word clearly, as if speaking to a child. "And to be honest, I greatly dislike being told what to do."

"But I—will you—please?" Link stammered, angry and flustered all at once. Why wasn't Ghirahim jumping at this?

"Oh, how delightful! You thought I wanted you to beg!" Ghirahim laughed, leaning back as far as the ropes would allow. "But no. We've grown rather short on time I'm afraid, and even if we hadn't, it's just too much fun watching you squirm."

With a start, Link saw the first red motes floating through the air between them, and realized with sinking regret that Ghirahim was right. Time was always hard to gauge down here, and the retrieved memory had thrown him off further, but he'd thought they had more left than that.

"You're disappointed," Ghirahim noted, sounding far too satisfied for Link's liking. "Consider this a teaser, then. You've had a taste of what I have to offer now, enough to know that I can fulfill my end of the bargain." His smirk had the air of a trap slamming shut. "I might even be feeling more generous the next time you come around."

Link could have sworn he felt the air freeze around him as he stared at Ghirahim, processing what he'd said. Then the spell broke, and his sword whirled from its sheath to point straight at Ghirahim's chest, not caring how ineffective steel weapons had already proven to be. He would find a way to fight Ghirahim off, if necessary.

"Don't touch me," he said coldly. "Don't you dare touch me. I won't be back after tonight, and you _will not_ touch me."

Ghirahim eyed the sword with a pitying sort of expression, then sighed.

"Link," he said, the red motes flying more quickly between them. "You wild, _stupid_ child. It's already been done." Link shook his head in horrifying denial, but Ghirahim continued on, his dark eyes almost glowing with anticipation. " _When the moon bleeds red, you will return to me once more._ That is not a singular event, Link. The blood moon will rise again… and again… and again, and as long as it does, you _will_ return. If I am not free, then neither are you."

Link wanted to keep denying—but could he? This was a pointless thing for Ghirahim to lie about, he realized with sudden, growing dread. If Link was not still bound to the curse, then he would not show up on the next blood moon and that would be that. It was a waste of Ghirahim's breath to insist otherwise—but if Link _was_ still bound...

His finger ached in silent confirmation as the blood moon hit its height once more, and the tip of Link's sword fell dully against the ground. He couldn't bring himself to raise it again, not even when Ghirahim vanished from his restraints as he had the last time, reappearing to lean over Link so closely that their foreheads touched.

"It's not so terrible a fate," he said softly as Link shifted, refusing to meet his dark eyes. "A curse easily remedied, when you think about it. I don't intend to harm you, but I _will_ be free, one way or another."

"And when you are?" Link asked, his voice fainter than he would have liked. "Will I be free of you then?"

Ghirahim's only response was a slow grin, his long tongue slithering out to flick at Link's ear, and Link recoiled from the touch on instinct, clenching his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Ghirahim was gone, the black sword visible in its restraints for only an instant before the red light overhead went out, dropping them both into darkness.

Link couldn't have said how long he stood there, staring stiffly at a sword he couldn't see. Then he threw his own sword against the ground with a wordless shout, the metallic clatter echoing like bells through the small chamber. The click of the stone door's lock releasing behind him was small and mocking in comparison. He could leave for now, it said, but he'd be back.

The throb of his finger and the knot in his chest said that, like it or not, he _would_ be back.


End file.
